The Prophecy Revealed
by TheLegionnaires
Summary: The first short story in a series about The Legion by xXBastetXx.


The legion. It is one, and one only unto the stars of night, yet by break of day by many. It is through shield and sword a battle is won, yet through tales it is remembered. Eternal it becomes, deep and prosperous upon the eyes of men, and yet upon sword blade it rises to the light, memories yet past one another upon the gilded dial of time, never to be broken. Yet it is through mere tyranny a victory is made in the eyes of the lonesome, the lost and broken of their conquest of defeat. Yet upon this a new tale arises-and a lost prophecy to be told…

Golden rows of spear points dipped into the gold-crested sky as the troops proceeded from battle, strong and willful to success, yet scarred and defeated only by the loss of those lost themselves in battle. Yet, victory had become physical unto the Legion, nothing more than the outward grasp of a weapon, and into their palms victory slid, a lubricant that pushed the troops onward into battle for yet another priceless defeat-a victory that came simple and unnoticed. "Perhaps this is nothing more than fate meant it to be, Kazzeh. No explanation needed to that, and no need to argue of it" Zephran sheathed his claymore, and looked onward into the setting sun, blurred from uprising desert sand, waiting moments for Kazzeh's reply. "Perhaps not. Perhaps so. It is to this we must not trust- for it one day could mean our defeat. No Zepheran. We can't go on this way, even in perfection. One day, we will not be prepared, one day…" Kazzeh stopped, pausing to brush off the sand that had !  
crested onto her canteen, and looked away with a sigh in disturbance. The day was going to come when defeat would be in their midst, and march into battle as unprepared as they were-without decent arms and over-expectancy, only to fall. Yet, as Kazzeh knew and Zephran denied, it was only a matter of time…

By the blaze of the fire, a single cavern lay lit under the stars of night, occupied by two silhouettes lay, kneeling by the crackling hearth, dark intentions laid to stir. "Sire, it is yet another painfully mastered defeat we have encountered. Our troops have yet again met bitter defeat in battle-" The messenger half-closed the scroll the held, and tilted his head to the icy stone floor "accounted with the death of 250 of our finest warriors after a search of the Legion's camp". Zarhim cackled in anger, transitioning into a powerful roar, his enormous claw smacking the messenger to the ground in fury. "Useless, I tell you, useless! Heavens fall upon them, clouds and all! Crush them! Crush them in defeat if you will! Or it shall be my duty to destroy them myself! Never! Shame you Tiamut! Shame you eternity!" Zarhim snatched the fine Xeno Almeo porcelain from his side, and tilted it so his eyes met his reflection, and silently stared. Furiously, he stood and chucked it acros!  
s the cave, hitting the wall with a shatter, as the broken remnants lay scattered across the cave. The leaders gaze met that of the shaking messenger, and sat down. "No good shall come of this. Especially of you. Now GO!" Zarhim pointed a mighty finger at the exit of the cave, and shook it, until the messenger packed his belongings and scurried out of the cave franticly, only to find the tantrum of the leader had awoken the whole camp from a restless sleep. The messenger slowly backed up, yet as the warrior merdieans approached him, traumatized and frightened, he fainted, cold and helpless to the icy ground.

"Order! Order!" Zephran shouted across the gaping extent of the dining hall across the roar of excitement of the Legionaires, yet silence came finally when his elbow knocked against his glass goblet, sending it flying across the oak table, and onto the floor with a sickening crack, that sent the dining hall into a surprised silence. As he resumed his seat in the tables center, he placed the palm of his hand onto his downward-looking face in utter embarrassment, and Kazzeh hid her own to hide her momentary laughter until she was quickly relieved of it, and cleared her throat. "Again, we have won. It is becoming more of a routine than a victory. But, how else would we want it?". She smiled gently, and lifted her goblet, Zephran pretending to hold his own. "Cheers!" her voice rang out, only to met by a joyful echo of "Cheers!".

The morning arose an unpleasant surprise for the followers of Zarhim in the form of a bloody fistfight between two warriors. An uproar of encouragement arose from the crowd that collected around the two, which had swelled immensely within the last few minutes. "This is what you get for being a traitor, you kniving, thieving traitor!" the taller, less bloodied merdiean warrior scowled with all effort he could muster, as he knocked his competitor in the abdomen, making him lean over in pain. "You lie! You cheat, you loose-lipped fool!". With one last blow, the opposing merdiean fell onto the ground, exhausted. "YES! YES! YYYEESSS!" The winner raised his fist into the air and yelled with the last of his reserve of energy, before nearly collapsing himself. At that moment, the screaming crowds went silent, as Zarhim made his way through the crowd on a throne held by his noble servants, and commanded them to lower him to the ground. 'Stop! What be this madness?!". He stepped forw!  
ard into the ring, the crowds backing up and parting without command, to face the astonished victor, who shied away. "What is the meaning of all this?" he glared eye-to eye in fury, needless for words. "Why I-I…."he took an exasperated breath and pointed at the body on the ground "HE'S A TRAITOR!". The uproar arose once again with the united chorus of "Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!", until hushed by Zarhim with a furious "Stop at ONCE!". "The next warrior to aggravate me, will find themselves trapped in the dungeon for 30 years!". "Now" he spoke, trying to understand, "The messenger did nothing! It is not in your meaning to judge this, but that of my own!". The victor dropped his jaw in disbelief and began to click, turning and running toward the rings border, which trapped him with a mass of angry hands. "Stop!" Zarhim yelled out, as the confused merdiean turned. "Guards! Off with him! Off! Off!". When the revengeful competitor was finally dragged away, Zarhim walked away, le!  
aving the remaining crowd to thin out. Zarhim began his walk back to h is cave, a voice came from off in the distance. "'Fore as it came, 'Fore as it went,  
Eternity gazes upon fate,  
Dark as midnight's gruesome grasp As you have suffered,  
They shall understand,  
Shalt eternity exalt you,  
Unto history forth.  
Yet to turn is to turn,  
Unto the repercussion you shalt suffer"  
Yet, as Zarhim looked, he saw nothing but the sifting snow below him. It was then he realized. Through all that had came and went, victory was theirs. In pride, he ran back to his cave, and ordered out all of his troops for the last battle.

As Zephran and Kazzeh readied their troops for battle, their messenger returned with peculiar news, that the followers of Zarhim were fully armed and ready. "Again?" Zephran asked, surprised by the sudden decision. The messenger nodded. As planned, the march went out under the same golden sun that had guided them through the last battle-yet, fate was garbled.  
"So, Legion. We meet again.". Zarhim growled expectantly. "It seems so, Zarhim. Wishing for luck anytime soon?" Kazzeh replied, determined not to draw her blade on him, even as close as her left hand rested on the smooth sheath, wanting control over their own actions. Zarhim cackled "Oh, no. Not this time, you merciless fools!". He drew his blade threateningly and began to circle. Kazzeh and Zephran drew theirs, as well and stepped forward. "So, is this the way you would like to play it, weaklings?" Zarhim jumped forward toward Zephran, who parried the enemy's blade skillful. "Not quite" Zephran motioned. "Attack!" Zarhim commanded his troops, who blasted as an invincible barrier toward the warriors of the legion, who fought with all of their might.

Through the dust and ashes of what remained of the battle sight, Kazzeh and Zephran stood tall among the battlefield, gazing out upon the golden fields beyond. "And thus, we remain" Kazzeh spoke to Zephran absentmindedly, only alerted when another voice joined. "Of this, I know not. After all…" They turned so they were inches away from the sharp-toothed smile of Zarhim, who was backed up with two of his warriors that still remained. "Though many of my greatest warriors have died, you stand defenseless with your tired troops". He unsheathed his sword, and the battle commenced. However, as soon as the fight started, the prophetic voice came once again:  
"Fate cometh, Fate goeth,  
Eternal be but the barer,  
The curse commanded unto eternity,  
'Fore what 'tis,  
'Fore what 'twas,  
"Fore whatever mayest be,  
May eternity rise,  
Eternity prevail"

Out form the shadows walked a female elf, bow and arrow in hand, as she gazed around. Her complexion was beyond godly, her crystal white braided hair swiftly flowing from behind her figure.  
"Peace shall lay its place here,  
False convictions shalt be but a memory,  
So curse you enemy as of not,  
As under the eyes of eternity,  
It was never meant to be"

She gingerly grasped an arrow from her golden quiver, and released it in one swift motion, into the field beyond. As soon as the figure had come, she faded into the serene landscape beyond. Wordless, Zarhim turned away with the remainder his troops. And yet, the arrow in the field remained, a symbol for all Legionaires of honesty and remembrance of the past-morals never to be broken. 


End file.
